Fritte watched the fight carefully, not intervening directly, but his gaze was sharp, as if he were cutting through the fog with every move I made. When the three Morna figures appeared, he instantly recognized the pattern.
—Don't waste your energy on the copies! They're empty, just shadows. The real one is always making noise... listen. It's on the left.
I clenched my teeth, and my breath became ragged with excitement and rage. The phantoms really did move in sync: the same gestures, the same smooth steps.
But as I looked closer, I caught a subtle difference, a barely audible rustling, as if the fabric was catching on the ground.
A fragile figure appeared before her, surrounded by a whitish haze. It was as if the moon itself had taken the form of a woman, with long hair that reached her waist and wilted flowers tangled in it like dark memories.
Morna's eyes shimmered with a soft moonlight, but there was a sense of danger in that light, like the depths of a calm sea.
Her movements were too smooth, too unnatural, as if she were not touching the ground but gliding above it.
The petals of her cloak, translucent and thin, stretched into a long train, and the fog itself drew closer to her, becoming a part of her. Every swing of her cloak was like the breath of the night itself.
The copies walked alongside her, mirroring her every move, but I knew now that their silence was a lie. Only the real Morna breathed, and her breath, soft and barely perceptible, filled my ears like the whisper of a ghost.
Fritte watched Morna's every move, his teeth clenched. His voice was firm, but there was a hint of anxiety in it:
—Disava, the spell is about to dissipate! Once the fog returns, you'll be blinded again. This is your chance! Deal damage while you can see her, and don't stand still!
The words struck me like a bell. My heart raced. Morna's every movement seemed to slow down, and I lunged forward, dodging the slashing blows of her translucent cloak.
The blade cut through the air, leaving glowing streaks of damage, but Morna seemed to know what was coming and dodged like a shadow.
Suddenly, everything changed. The fragile figure stopped, and her lips began to move silently, slowly, as if she were reciting an ancient prayer.
A strange rustling sound came from the fog, as if hundreds of voices were whispering at the same time. I felt my skin go goosebumps, and my fingers involuntarily loosened their grip on my weapon.
A system notification appeared before my eyes:
[Attention!] The boss location Morna Lunn is using the [Sleeping Whisper] skill.
When hit, the target is completely paralyzed for 2 seconds.
— Don't look into her eyes! If you give in, even for a moment, you'll freeze, and she'll tear you apart!
I swallowed, trying to focus. The fog around me began to slowly thicken, reminding me that time was running out. I had to strike now, while my body still obeyed me.
Morna's lips continued to move, and each whisper echoed in my head like a forgotten thought. With each passing second, it became increasingly difficult to move, as if something viscous and cold was enveloping my mind.
My choice was simple: either strike now, or allow myself to give in and lose.
I saw Morna Lunn weave a pattern of moonlight in front of her. The streams of energy seemed to reach out to me like a spider's web, ready to ensnare its prey.
As my vision began to blur, I realized that [Sleepy Whisper] had already entered my mind. The world began to swim, and a fog obscured the enemy's form, making the sounds muffled, as if they were coming through water.
—Damn it...
In a panic, I zigzagged, darted to the side, then rolled sharply over my shoulder. My body moved almost on instinct: step, dodge, [Roll]. I knew that if I stopped even for a moment, the whisper would finally capture her mind.
But even that wasn't enough. Suddenly, strange voices began to sound inside her head, quiet, insistent, and gentle. "Rest... freeze... let go..." Her legs began to buckle, her movements slowed, and her fingers were about to drop her weapon.
— Fritte... Strike me with the light! Quickly!
Fritte was momentarily taken aback.
— What?! But this could...
— Do it!
I shouted, feeling my mind sinking into a viscous void. Fritte, his fists clenched, obeyed. A bright glow appeared in his palms, and he uttered a short formula. In the next moment, a beam of light shot out and struck my back.
My body shuddered as if I had been scalded with boiling water. Pain pierced every cell, and my eyes watered, but at the same time, the whisper stopped.
Morna's skill disappeared as if it had been uprooted. My ears rang, my breath caught, but my mind was once again my own.
— Huh... Well done.
Fritte looked at me anxiously:
— Are you sure you can handle another one of those?
Disava chuckled through her exhaustion.
—Better your light... than her sleep.
When Morna Lunn's health bar reached its final 25%, the phantom gardener changed her tactics.
She no longer wasted her energy on illusions or distracted her opponents. Instead, Morna moved with cold determination, as if she had realized that this was her last chance to send her uninvited guests to a misty grave.
Her eyes glowed with moonlight, and her mouth emitted a hoarse whisper that turned into longing moans. With each step, she left behind a trail of withering flowers that crumbled into gray dust.
I felt my heart pounding. It was time to act. In one motion, I drew two weapons: [Scarlet Budding] and [Mistleaf]. The blades flashed in my hands, reflecting the light that filtered through the ragged patches of fog.
—Now or never...
Morna lunged forward, her cloak unfurling like a giant petal, ready to engulf her prey. But I stepped aside abruptly and, putting all my rage and exhaustion into my blows, unleashed a combination on the phantom.
One dagger plunged into the phantom gardener's chest, while the other arced through the air and sliced through her ghostly body. The crimson light and the green hues blended together like intertwined flower stems.
Morna Lunn health plummeted to zero.
She screamed, not just a shriek, but a long, tower-like wail that shook the ground. The fog billowed in waves, leaves and dust swirled in a whirlwind, and then everything abruptly fell silent.
The phantom gardener's body shattered into shimmering pixels and dissolved into thin air.
The only sound was my heavy, labored breathing. I stood there, barely able to hold the weapon in my hands, my knees trembling from the strain.
Fritte, as exhausted as I was, soared up and landed on my shoulder. His wings fluttered weakly.
—We... we've made it.
—If it weren't for you, I would have stayed here.
The fog began to dissipate, revealing the path ahead. On the horizon, I saw the road leading to the gates of the new city.